


What Could've Been

by Naopao



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Don't Examine This Too Closely, Drabble, Gen, M/M, Pining, Pre-Slash, only if you squint are there pairings i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 12:23:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7801750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naopao/pseuds/Naopao
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two drabbles loosely based on <a href="http://www.venomines.tumblr.com">venomines'</a> cyborg!AU. Featuring omnics as magical humans instead of robots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Could've Been

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. I'm sorry. Hopefully this is amusing to someone out there...I am planning to whip this up into an actual fic someday.

Mondatta doesn’t give him a second glance until Zenyatta does: another bright color among the vibrant city of Hanamura.

“Brother, do you see him over by the sakura trees? What marvelous hair!” Zenyatta leans forward, amber eyes wide and excited. Mondatta comes to a halt next to his pupil turned companion. _Brother_ , Mondatta corrects himself.

“He looks like a ninja from the old stories,” Zenyatta says with an air of wonder.

Mondatta sniffs. It’s not the first time something unimpressive catches Zenyatta’s attention. His own icy eyes take in the human, barely older than a boy.

He notes immediately that the man is brash. He speaks loudly to the people around him, presumably his friends, and whips back his obnoxiously green head when he laughs. Garish orange scarf, pretentious ripped sleeves. The ninja tosses a brutish, muscled arm across the shoulders of his closest companions and whispers. They flush and giggle in unison.

“Hm. I suppose he does.” Mondatta glances at Zenyatta, who has yet to start walking, who has yet to peel his eyes away.

“We should go. There’s much to be done.” Mondatta chides, not unkindly.

The other monk nods, straightening his shoulders. “Of course.”

Mondatta leads his brother with a brush of fingers against the small of his back, allowing the green ninja a wide berth.

Neither monk notices the ninja pausing in turn, eyes following them as they pass.

-

The obnoxious green-haired human, as it turns out, finds them curious. Zenyatta and Mondatta keep to the streets of Hanamura, helping the poor and spreading the teachings of the Iris where they can. Their presence is tolerated at best, but that is not new to either of them. Humans were often wary of magic, even when it was used for their benefit.

Mondatta spots the ninja once or twice as the days pass, but Zenyatta sees him in places the older monk dismisses as empty.

 _Look, tucked against the house with yellow tiles_ , Zenyatta hums, not unhappily.

Or the time he occupied an alleyway, hidden in a sliver of shadows. Another day finds the human spying on them from a busy arcade as obnoxiously bright and colorful as he is.

Chargrined, Mondatta admits, only to himself, that the ninja is sly and tactful when it is to his benefit.

-

“He follows us quite a lot, doesn’t he?” Zenyatta wonders aloud, a few weeks after their first walk through the city.

Mondatta shrugs, arms crossed as he stares at the ninja’s hiding place, every now and then unable to spot the unmoving figure. Irritating.

It is early evening in late spring, though the weather remains pleasant and cool. The nine marks on Zenyatta’s forehead match the golden glow of his hands, which hover inches above a wounded child. Mondatta hears the soft smile in his brother’s words and resists the urge to roll his eyes.

The wound knits beneath Zenyatta’s harmonious magic, and the child’s dark eyes are a light with wonder.

Zenyatta’s smile widens in turn. “I trust there is no pain?”

She thanks the monk with a warm-hearted bear hug only children bestow before running to her friends. The monks watch her speak animatedly, and she turns to wave and point at Zenyatta, who dips his head in her direction.

Mondatta extends an elegant hand to his brother, helping him stand. He can’t help but catalog the feeling of Zenyatta’s grip, too-warm and calloused. If their prolonged contact disturbs Zenyatta, he gives no sign of it.

“You have over exerted yourself. We should retire early.”

Zenyatta twists his arms up in a languid stretch, working some weariness from his bones. Mondatta stares pointedly towards the trees.

“It was one too many, perhaps, but I do not regret my actions.”

Mondatta smiles, basking in the comfortable silence that washes over them. Nothing but the sound of the wind and the soft chattering of children. Spreading harmony, helping people experience the tranquility of the iris, a simple, peaceful day like this was to be treasured.

Mondatta’s tranquil feelings fade when he realizes Zenyatta scans the treeline.

As they turn to leave, Mondatta clasps his brother’s hand in his, glaring over his shoulder.


End file.
